Battlefield
by Turnadette
Summary: Was this God's Will, or was she losing her faith? Sister Bernadette and Dr. Turner. Author's Note REPLACED WITH CHAPTER 3!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone :) I simply couldn't resist writing about these two! This fic is set at the beginning of Series 2 Episode 4. I did take some of the dialogue from the show, however it's purely because I wanted to write not only a Sister Beradette and Dr. Turner fic, but show her relationship with Timothy :) I haven't written in a while, so felt a little rusty writing this, so please forgive if it isn't any good :)**

* * *

He stepped into the parish hall to be greeted with noise. There were groups of women with rather large bumps sitting or standing huddled together, all chatting and gossiping. Toddlers and young children were running around the room, playing and screaming, only for them in turn to be screamed at, by their own mothers. He scanned the crowded room. No sign of his father. Perhaps he had an urgent house call.

He saw Nurse Franklin through the window of the kitchen and thought of going over to her, only to find himself being called by his father who had appeared out of a cubicle and was rushing over to him.

"Timothy, what happened?" Dr. Turner asked, looking at the blood on his son's arm with concern.

"We were spinning around at play time." The young boy answered, as his father examined his arm.

"And school let you leave?" Dr. Turner was shocked. Perhaps he should be having words with Timothy's teacher. "Somebody should have come with you."

"I told them I knew how to get here." Timothy answered. "You're always at work."

Dr. Turner looked at his son. "What if I was away on a call?"

Neither Turner noticed that they had been attracting a little attention from onlookers, and had now been joined by one other.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" Father and son both turned to see Sister Bernadette looking at them.

"They just sent him here!" Was the Doctor's answer. "Why can't they deal with that at school?" He was now looking at his son's arm once more. "It's only a graze."

Sister Bernadette could see the rejection of his father's words quickly flash in Timothy's eyes. She liked this young boy, and as much as she respected and appreciated his father, couldn't help but feel compassion for the youngster.

"Let me see here," The young nun smiled to the boy, instantly relaxing him. She took hold of his arm, checking it over. "Well, I think we're definitely going to need a bandage. We should clean it first, though." Her eyes drifted from son to father, almost requesting his permission.

Dr. Turner's expression softened as he looked at his child. "Will you be alright with Sister Bernadette, while I finish seeing to my patient?" Timothy nodded. Dr Turner turned his attention to the Sister. "You're very kind, Sister."

She returned the smile before putting her arm around Timothy. "Let's get you sat down, and we'll have that fixed up in a jiffy." Sitting the boy down, Sister Bernadette knelt in front of him.

As Dr Turner returned to his cubicle, he couldn't help but think of what a perfect mother Sister Bernadette would have made. _'Stop it!'_ He cursed himself. The woman was a nun, and he certainly should not have been thinking about her being a mother, caring for Timothy, for their own children, as his wife… He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as he brushed aside this vicious cycle of thoughts and returned to examine Mrs. Felwood.

"There we go," Sister Bernadette announced once she had cleaned and bandaged Timothy's wound. "Good as new."

"Thank you Sister Bernadette." He smiled.

"Oh, you're most welcome." She grinned. She enjoyed Timothy's company. He really was a splendid wee boy. He had a vivid imagination, and was a very polite and well-mannered young man.

As they both stood up, Sister Bernadette turned to him. "Wait here one second." She then moved over to Sister Monica Joan, who had been sitting with a tin of jelly-babies on her lap, waiting for each child who was being vaccinated to collect their sweet. When Sister Bernadette reached into the tin and lifted two of the treats, she was met with a quizzical look. Smiling plainly towards her elder Sister, she returned to Timothy.

"Here you go." She smiled, handing two green little people over to him. "I know your father doesn't like you eating sweets," The nun lowered her voice a little. "But I won't tell him if you don't."

The pair shared a little giggle, before Timothy was sent back to school.

That evening, the midwives and Sisters were gathered in the sitting room, enjoying their Horlicks, and chatting idly. Sister Bernadette was sat in the corner of the room, silently replaying the scene over in her head. She had found herself doing this every time they were together now, and she wasn't at all sure if it needed to be a good thing or bad. She knew she should not be thinking about a man so much at all, however she was powerless to stop herself. At night she dreamed about him, during the day she stole looks at him during the antenatal clinic, and during Compline she often felt she was singing about him, singing _to _him. These thoughts, she admitted silently, were beginning to frighten and confuse her. Was she losing her faith? Or, was she just falling hopelessly in love with the Doctor?

* * *

**Any good? Should I continue? I know not much was going on there, but please bare with me. And please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! :) I am so sorry it has taken me so long to update. I had a touch of writer's block, and this chapter just didn't seem to want to be written :/ I think this is a little smaller than the first chapter, but I hope you like it anyway :)**

* * *

Later that evening, Patrick Turner was sitting in his study, looking over patient notes, when there was a quiet knock on the door. "Come in," He announced, his eyes never leaving the sheets in his hand.

"Dad?" He heard a small voice come from the now ajar door.

Tearing his eyes away from the papers he turned to look at his son. He smiled as he watched the young boy shift nervously. Leaning back in his chair he sighed, realising he had been a little too harsh when Timothy had come into the clinic earlier.

"Yes Timothy, how can I help?" He gestured for his son to take a seat beside him. The younger Turner stepped into the room and flopped into the chair next to his father.

"Can you give this to Sister Bernadette please?" He handed the large piece of folded parchment paper he had been holding over to the doctor.

Patrick frowned, intrigued as he looked at his son. Carefully opening the paper by the creases, his breath caught in his throat. The sight had almost brought tears to his eyes. Timothy had drawn a picture of himself and Sister Bernadette standing side-by-side, holding hands with huge smiles on their faces. _'If only,'_ he thought silently.

"I wanted to thank her for helping me today." Timothy explained innocently. When his father said nothing, the boy began to worry. "Don't you like it?"

"It's fantastic." Timothy heard his father whisper, still staring at the page.

"Do you think Sister Bernadette will like it?" The young boy hoped. Patrick looked from the drawing to his son. It was clear that he loved the quiet little Scottish nun as much as his father did.

Grinning, "I think she'll love it," was the doctor's response. Opening his briefcase, the picture was placed so delicately inside. "I will give it to her the next time I see her. Now, dinner I think, young man."

Three days later, and the drawing was still safe inside Doctor Turner's briefcase. Patrick wanted to give it to her, to see the smile on her face, but he couldn't bring himself to part with it. Not yet. Looking at the smiling faces of the two people he loved most in the world gave him hope. Hope that maybe – one day – their lives could be like that. Together, holding hands on a sunny day, a family. He knew it was wrong to think this way. To love her knowing she could not express her feelings back. _Her feelings. _Did she have feelings for him? Did she love him like he loved her? Or, was she simply serving God?

Sister Julienne was growing concerned for Sister Bernadette. The other midwives and Sisters were beginning to notice too. The presence of the intelligent young woman of the veil had been slowly but surely dwindling throughout the last few days. She spent most of her free time in her room – to pray or find solace in the Psalms – or in the chapel, clutching the cross that hung from her neck, and praying, _hoping _that God could give her the answers she needed. Even during meal times she was virtually silent at the table, and in Compline her voice was quieter than usual. Lifeless even.

"Sister?" Once again Sister Julienne found the girl she thought of as a daughter, standing at the front of the chapel, her head bowed.

Sister Bernadette whipped round, hearing the elder Sister's voice. Even from a distance, Julienne could see she had been crying. Worry rushed over her as she walked to the front of the chapel. Taking Sister Bernadette's hands in her own, she guided her to first pew. "What's wrong, Sister?" She asked after a moment.

Sister Bernadette was silent, her tear-filled eyes fixed on their hands. She could not speak. She didn't have the words. How could she tell Sister Julienne what was wrong, when she herself did not know? All she did know was that it hurt to think of Doctor Turner, but it hurt more when she didn't think of him. How could tell Sister Julienne that her heart beat faster when she was near him, or how she longed for his touch? How could she tell her that she was afraid the love she had for Doctor Turner would overtake the love she had for God?

* * *

**What do you think? I know, it was a little more angsty than the first, but I think it had to be done. Please review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update again (I've been in hospital quite a few times lately), but I want to thank you all for the wonderful reviews you have given this fic, and also for the messages wishing me well. I really appreciated each and every one of them! Here is the next part, it's quite a bit longer than the last two updates as I wanted to make up for time. I'm not very happy with it to be honest, but wanted to post it anyway. I should also probably mention that this fic is not entirely chronologically correct with the show. However, I hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

"You have not been yourself, Sister." Sister Julienne pressed, wishing Bernadette would speak to her, but the silence was deafening. "Please talk to me."

"I can't." Sister Bernadette whispered so quietly Julienne was not sure she had heard her.

"Why not?" Julienne questioned, her concern lacing her voice. "What is it that you feel you cannot express?" She received no reply.

Bernadette sat beside her Sister-in-Charge, as she fought back her tears. She couldn't tell Sister Julienne how she felt. _She_ wasn't even sure how she felt. The atmosphere was becoming tense in the Chapel, and Bernadette was all too aware of Sister Julienne's eyes boring into her, almost searching for her thoughts. She needed to get out. She needed an escape. Quickly wiping her eyes, she removed her hands from the clench of the elder Sister's, and stood up.

"I'm sorry, Sister. But I am first on call." _'Thank Heavens for small mercies,'_ She could not help but think as she kept her eyes down, hurriedly walking out of the Chapel.

"Sister Bernadette?" Trixie called, as she rushed towards her. "Mave Carter's baby is on the way."

Immediately all of the emotional distress she had been feeling evaporated for the meantime, as her mind switched into 'midwife mode'.

"Right, I'll get my bag. And I'll need you to assist please, Nurse Franklin."

Arriving at the home of Mavis and Meg Carter (and their husband, Bill), both parked their bicycles at the side of the building. Stepping into the flat, they were met with darkness. Trixie looked to Sister Bernadette. "What on Earth is going on?" She whispered as Bill led them towards the bedroom.

The room was almost completely pitch black when they entered. Mave Carter was sitting in an old birthing chair – Sister Bernadette hadn't seen one in years – while her sister Meg was milling around beside her. Both twins turned towards the door when they saw Bernadette and Trixie enter.

"Hello Mrs Carter," Trixie smiled as she stepped into the room first.

"What you doin' 'ere?" Meg almost shouted. _'Oh dear,'_ Sister Bernadette thought. This was not going to be straight forward, she just knew it. There would almost definitely be complications, either from the delivery (after all, Mave was an elderly primagravida), or from Meg.

"Turning the lights on for a start," Nurse Franklin replied, flicking the switch on the wall to illuminate the room, with much protest from Meg. Sister Bernadette silently sighed_. 'I was right, this is going to be a complicated birth.'_

Both midwives were gowned, and the mother made comfortable by the time Doctor Turner arrived. As he stepped into the room, he drew a breath. He watched Sister Bernadette as she checked the baby's progress. He loved to watch her work. She was a true professional. She was calm and collected, even when the going was getting rough. He wished he could say the same for himself. At that very moment he was sure his heart rate had almost doubled.

The baby – a girl – was delivered without any problems, surprisingly. As Doctor Turner went to spread the good news to Meg and Bill, Sister Bernadette and Trixie waited for the third stage of labour. As Mave and Trixie chatted, Bernadette thought. The joy Doctor Turner showed each time he was present at a birth was immense. He seemed almost as relieved and emotional as each and every new father. She smiled gently as she thought of how strong he had been when his wife had passed away. He never faltered and always kept so in control. She wasn't sure though, if he was staying strong for young Timothy, or for himself. A pang of sadness hit her as she thought of Timothy. That dear little boy. He handled his mother's death so well, even if he did give his father a bit of a hard time to begin with. But he had adjusted, and father and son had adapted to their new family of two. She could do nothing but admire them so fondly for that.

"Sister," She was pulled from her thoughts, as her attention was turned to Trixie's face. "Mave seems to be having another contraction."

Sister Bernadette looked to Mave, and suddenly it clicked. The slow third stage, the small first baby – twins. Taking her pinard she placed it to Mave's stomach. There was another heartbeat. A steady 130, clear as a bell. Mave groaned in pain as contractions began to become more fervent.

Doctor Turner returned to the room a few minutes later, and after examining Mave, it was concluded that the second baby was transverse. Sister Bernadette would have to try to turn it. As she began, Doctor Turner watched on. He had complete admiration for her. He was also completely in love with her, though that was one fact which he knew he could never reveal. He had resigned himself to loving her from afar. However hard it was becoming not to reach out and take her hand, or stroke her cheek.

The second baby – another girl – was delivered safely, albeit not without worry, and even Mave, who had haemorrhaged, seemed to be recovering well. Once the third stage was over, mother and twins were checked over and cleaned up. Mave and Meg were delighted with the two new additions to their dysfunctional little family. Sister Bernadette smirked, she knew if the older Carter twins had their way (and they usually did!), the two younger twins would be just fine together.

While Doctor Turner and Sister Bernadette set about tidying the room of evidence of labour, Nurse Franklin returned to Nonnatus House, her shift over for the evening. Both doctor and nun worked in silence, neither daring to look at the other. Once their equipment was packed up, they headed outside. The street was calm, as they stood by Doctor Turner's car side by side.

"We're like an officer and a sergeant the morning after the Somme," Doctor Turner stated as he put his cigarette to his mouth, turning his head to look at the nun standing beside him. "And that's not to say I see myself as the officer." She smirked in response. He looked down at his cigarette. "I feel as though I should offer you one." He joked.

"Just a puff." Not sure he had heard her correctly, the doctor stared in shock.

"Of this?" He hinted towards his hand, as she gave a slight nod.

"Quickly, just a wee one,' She replied, taking the cigarette from his hand. As she brought it to her lips, her mind was flooded with the familiar taste and scent. "What are these?"

"Henley's." The doctor responded, still in a slight state of shock. This woman never ceased to amaze him.

"Oh, Henley's," She smiled. "I loved Henley's. They were the kind my father used to smoke. I used to sneak one out of his desk sometimes when I was about fourteen." She let out a small laugh, as she allowed herself to think of her former life.

Doctor Turner had to admit he was completely in awe of the woman next to him. She was angelic and gentle, yet, he had found, she had impeccable wit, and was maybe even a little bit rebellious in her teenage years. He wished he could get to know her more.

Taking another puff of the cigarette she was holding, she smiled once more. "Thank you," She said quietly, giving it back to him.

"You've earned it," He replied.

Bowing her head, she grabbed bicycle, before walking off towards home. She inwardly sighed. It used to feel like home. Now, it was just a house.

He watched her fondly disappear down the streets of Poplar, before drawing his eyes to the cigarette he was gripping. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, she felt as he did.

* * *

**Reviews and criticism are most welcome :)**


End file.
